FROM DAWN TO NOON

‘The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and
more unto the perfect day.’—PROVERBS iv. 18.

‘Then shall the righteous shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of
their father.’—MATT. xiii. 43.

The metaphor common to both these texts is not infrequent throughout
Scripture. In one of the oldest parts of the Old Testament, Deborah’s
triumphal song, we find, ‘Let all them that love Thee be as the sun
when he goeth forth in his might.’ In one of the latest parts of the
Old Testament, Daniel’s prophecy, we read, ‘They that be wise shall
shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to
righteousness as the stars for ever and ever.’ Then in the New
Testament we have Christ’s comparison of His servants to light, and
the great promise which I have read as my second text. The upshot of
them all is this—the most radiant thing on earth is the character of
a good man. The world calls men of genius and intellectual force its
lights. The divine estimate, which is the true one, confers the name
on righteousness.

But my first text follows out another analogy; not only brightness,
but progressive brightness, is the characteristic of the righteous
man.

We are to think of the strong Eastern sun, whose blinding light
steadily increases till the noontide. ‘The perfect day’ is a somewhat
unfortunate translation. What is meant is the point of time at which
the day culminates, and for a moment, the sun seems to stand steady,
up in those southern lands, in the very zenith, raying down ‘the
arrows that fly by noonday.’ The text does not go any further, it does
not talk about the sad diminution of the afternoon. The parallel does
not hold; though, if we consult appearance and sense alone, it seems
to hold only too well. For, sadder than the setting of the suns, which
rise again to-morrow, is the sinking into darkness of death, from
which there seems to be no emerging. But my second text comes in to
tell us that death is but as the shadow of eclipse which passes, and
with it pass obscuring clouds and envious mists, and ‘then shall the
righteous blaze forth like the sun in their Heavenly Father’s
kingdom.’

And so the two texts speak to us of the progressive brightness, and
the ultimate, which is also the progressive, radiance of the
righteous.

I. In looking at them together, then, I would notice, first, what a
Christian life is meant to be.

I must not linger on the lovely thoughts that are suggested by that
attractive metaphor of life. It must be enough, for our present
purpose, to say that the light of the Christian life, like its type in
the heavens, may be analysed into three beams—purity, knowledge,
blessedness. And these three, blended together, make the pure
whiteness of a Christian soul.

But what I wish rather to dwell upon is the other thought, the
intention that every Christian life should be a life of increasing
lustre, uninterrupted, and the natural result of increasing communion
with, and conformity to, the very fountain itself of heavenly
radiance.

Remember how emphatically, in all sorts of ways, progress is laid down
in Scripture as the mark of a religious life. There is the emblem of
my text. There is our Lord’s beautiful one of vegetable growth: ‘First
the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear.’ There is the
other metaphor of the stages of human life, ‘babes in Christ,’ young
men in Him, old men and fathers. There is the metaphor of the growth
of the body. There is the metaphor of the gradual building up of a
structure. We are to ‘edify ourselves together,’ and to ‘build
ourselves up on our most holy faith.’ There is the other emblem of a
race—continual advance as the result of continual exertion, and the
use of the powers bestowed upon us.

And so in all these ways, and in many others that I need not now touch
upon, Scripture lays it down as a rule that life in the highest
region, like life in the lowest, is marked by continual growth. It is
so in regard to all other things. Continuity in any kind of practice
gives increasing power in the art. The artisan, the blacksmith with
his hammer, the skilled artificer at his trade, the student at his
subject, the good man in his course of life, and the bad man in his,
do equally show that use becomes second nature. And so, in passing,
let me say what incalculable importance there is in our getting habit,
with all its mystical power to mould life, on the side of
righteousness, and of becoming accustomed to do good, and so being
unfamiliar with evil.

Let me remind you, too, how this intention of continuous growth is
marked by the gifts that are bestowed upon us in Jesus Christ. He
gives us—and it is by no means the least of the gifts that He
bestows—an absolutely unattainable aim as the object of our efforts.
For He bids us not only be ‘perfect, as our Father in Heaven is
perfect,’ but He bids us be entirely conformed to His own Self. The
misery of men is that they pursue aims so narrow and so shabby that
they can be attained, and are therefore left behind, to sink hull down
on the backward horizon. But to have before us an aim which is
absolutely unreachable, instead of being, as ignorant people say, an
occasion of despair and of idleness, is, on the contrary, the very
salt of life. It keeps us young, it makes hope immortal, it
emancipates from lower pursuits, it diminishes the weight of sorrows,
it administers an anaesthetic to every pain. If you want to keep
life fresh, seek for that which you can never fully find.

Christ gives us infinite powers to reach that unattainable aim, for He
gives us access to all His own fullness, and there is more in His
storehouses than we can ever take, not to say more than we can ever
hope to exhaust. And therefore, because of the aim that is set before
us, and because of the powers that are bestowed upon us to reach it,
there is stamped upon every Christian life unmistakably as God’s
purpose and ideal concerning it, that it should for ever and for ever
be growing nearer and nearer, as some ascending spiral that ever
circles closer and closer, and yet never absolutely unites with the
great central Perfection which is Himself.

So, brethren, for every one of us, if we are Christian people at all,
‘this is the will of God, even your perfection.’

II. Consider the sad contrast of too many Christian lives.

I would not speak in terms that might seem to be reproach and
scolding. The matter is far too serious, the disease far too
widespread, to need or to warrant any exaggeration. But, dear
brethren, there are many so-called and, in a fashion, really Christian
people to whom Christ and His work are mainly, if not exclusively, the
means of escaping the consequences of sin—a kind of ‘fire-escape.’
And to very many it comes as a new thought, in so far as their
practical lives are concerned, that these ought to be lives of
steadily increasing deliverance from the love and the power of sin,
and steadily increasing appropriation and manifestation of Christ’s
granted righteousness. There are, I think, many of us from whom the
very notion of progress has faded away. I am sure there are some of us
who were a great deal farther on on the path of the Christian life
years ago, when we first felt that Christ was anything to us, than we
are to-day. ‘When for the time ye ought to be teachers, ye have need
that one teach you which be the first principles of the oracles of
God.’

There is an old saying of one of the prophets that a child would die a
hundred years old, which in a very sad sense is true about very many
folk within the pale of the Christian Church who are seventy-year-old
babes still, and will die so. Suns ‘growing brighter and brighter
until the noonday!’ Ah! there are many of us who are a great deal more
like those strange variable stars that sometimes burst out in the
heavens into a great blaze, that brings them up to the brightness of
stars of the first magnitude, for a day or two; and then they dwindle
until they become little specks of light that the telescope can hardly
see.

And there are hosts of us who are instances, if not of arrested, at
any rate of unsymmetrical, development. The head, perhaps, is
cultivated; the intellectual apprehension of Christianity increases,
while the emotional, and the moral, and the practical part of it are
all neglected. Or the converse may be the case; and we may be full of
gush and of good emotion, and of fervour when we come to worship or to
pray, and our lives may not be a hair the better for it all. Or there
may be a disproportion because of an exclusive attention to conduct
and the practical side of Christianity, while the rational side of it,
which should be the basis of all, and the emotional side of it, which
should be the driving power of all, are comparatively neglected.

So, dear brethren! what with interruptions, what with growing by fits
and starts, and long, dreary winters like the Arctic winters, coming
in between the two or three days of rapid, and therefore brief and
unwholesome, development, we must all, I think, take to heart the
condemnation suggested by this text when we compare the reality of our
lives with the divine intention concerning them. Let us ask ourselves,
‘Have I more command over myself than I had twenty years ago? Do I
live nearer Jesus Christ today than I did yesterday? Have I more of
His Spirit in me? Am I growing? Would the people that know me best say
that I am growing in the grace and knowledge of my Lord and Saviour?’
Astronomers tell us that there are dark suns, that have burnt
themselves out, and are wandering unseen through the skies. I wonder
if there are any extinguished suns of that sort listening to me at
this moment.

III. How the divine purpose concerning us may be realised by us.

Now the Alpha and the Omega of this, the one means which
includes all other, is laid down by Jesus Christ Himself in another
metaphor when He said, ‘Abide in Me, and I in you; so shall ye bring
forth much fruit.’ Our path will brighten, not because of any radiance
in ourselves, but in proportion as we draw nearer and nearer to the
Fountain of heavenly radiance.

The planets that move round the sun, further away than we are on
earth, get less of its light and heat; and those that circle around it
within the limits of our orbit, get proportionately more. The nearer
we are to Him, the more we shall shine. The sun shines by its own
light, drawn indeed from the shrinkage of its mass, so that it gives
away its very life in warming and illuminating its subject-worlds. But
we shine only by reflected light, and therefore the nearer we keep to
Him the more shall we be radiant.

That keeping in touch with Jesus Christ is mainly to be secured by the
direction of thought, and love, and trust to Him. If we follow close
upon Him we shall not walk in darkness. It is to be secured and
maintained very largely by what I am afraid is much neglected by
Christian people of all sorts nowadays, and that is the devotional use
of their Bibles. That is the food by which we grow. It is to be secured
and maintained still more largely by that which I, again, am afraid is
but very imperfectly attained to by Christian people now, and that is,
the habit of prayer. It is to be secured and maintained, again, by the
honest conforming of our lives, day by day, to the present amount of our
knowledge of Him and of His will. Whosoever will make all his life the
manifestation of his belief, and turn all his creed into principles of
action, will grow both in the comprehensiveness, and in the depths of
his Christian character. ‘Ye are the light in the Lord.’ Keep in Him,
and you will become brighter and brighter. So shall we ‘go from strength
to strength, till we appear before God in Zion.’

IV. Lastly, what brighter rising will follow the earthly setting?

My second text comes in here. Beauty, intellect, power, goodness; all
go down into the dark. The sun sets, and there is left a sad and
fading glow in the darkening pensive sky, which may recall the
vanished light for a little while to a few faithful hearts, but
steadily passes into the ashen grey of forgetfulness.

But ‘then shall the righteous blaze forth like the sun, in their
Heavenly Father’s kingdom.’ The momentary setting is but apparent. And
ere it is well accomplished, a new sun swims into the ‘ampler ether,
the diviner air’ of that future life, ‘and with new spangled beams,
flames in the forehead of the morning sky.’

The reason for that inherent brightness suggested in our second text
is that the soul of the righteous man passes from earth into a region
out of which we ‘gather all things that offend, and them that do
iniquity.’ There are other reasons for it, but that is the one which
our Lord dwells on. Or, to put it into modern scientific language,
environment corresponds to character. So, when the clouds have rolled
away, and no more mists from the undrained swamps of selfishness and
sin and animal nature rise up to hide the radiance, there shall be a
fuller flood of light poured from the re-created sun.

That brightness thus promised has for its highest and most blessed
character that it is conformity to the Lord Himself. For, as you may
remember, the last use of this emblem that we find in Scripture refers
not to the servant but to the Master, whom His beloved disciple in
Apocalyptic vision saw, with His ‘countenance as the sun shining in
his strength.’ Thus ‘we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He
is.’ And therefore that radiance of the sainted dead is progressive,
too. For it has an infinite fulness to draw upon, and the soul that is
joined to Jesus Christ, and derives its lustre from Him, cannot die
until it has outgrown Jesus and emptied God. The sun will one day be a
dark, cold ball. We shall outlast it.

But, brethren, remember that it is only those who here on earth have
progressively appropriated the brightness that Christ bestows who have
a right to reckon on that better rising. It is contrary to all
probability to believe that the passage from life can change the
ingrained direction and set of a man’s nature. We know nothing that
warrants us in affirming that death can revolutionise character. Do
not trust your future to such a dim peradventure. Here is a plain
truth. They who on earth are as ‘the shining light that shineth more
and more unto the perfect day,’ shall, beyond the shadow of eclipse,
shine on as the sun does, behind the opaque, intervening body, all
unconscious of what looks to mortal eyes on earth an eclipse, and
‘shall blaze out like the sun in their Heavenly Father’s kingdom.’ For
all that we know and are taught by experience, religious and moral
distinctions are eternal. ‘He that is righteous, let him be righteous
still; and he that is filthy, let him be filthy still.’